


Ne Ki'ne

by Wingstar102



Series: Ho-Rah [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Barbarian Vulcan Practices Make Jim Hot!, Fluff, Ho-Rah #2, M/M, Naked!Jim, Obscure Vulcan Stuff, Painted!Jim, Pre-Reform Vulcans, Romance, Romantic!Spock, Sexual Content, This Ate My Brain, This One's Not My Fault, Warrior!Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingstar102/pseuds/Wingstar102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Kirk finds out that Vulcan warrior initiations have some interesting elements and Spock happily introduces his bondmate to more of his culture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ne Ki'ne

“I must ask, a third and final time, are you certain? This ritual is not to be undergone lightly. This is not required of you and no one will respect you less for declining.”  
  
“You forget Spock, _I_ asked you if I could do this. I want this.”  
  
Spock motioned for them to stop then dipped his head in acknowledgment. “So be it.”  
  
Jim looked around at the place his bondmate had chosen to spend part of their first shore leave on the new Vulcan homeworld. Even though it was dark, as far as he could see there was nothing but sand and low, half dead scrub brush native to the new planet Vulcans called home. They had been walking West for close to three hours - following some ancient and instinctual call in Spock’s blood - for the purpose of tying James T. Kirk S'chn T'gai Spock more closely to the Vulcan people, the House of Surak, and, most importantly, to Spock. “This is the place? Not much out here.”  
  
“Would you have preferred an audience?” Spock asked, as he pulled open the large satchel he had brought with them and pulled out a large meditation mat, laying it out as flat as possible on the sand. “The ancients used to conduct this ritual with an audience. Of course, if you wanted one, you only needed to request it.” Jim gave no reply. Straightening up, Spock ordered, “Stripped.”  
  
He shed the sturdy sandals and heavy black Vulcan robe, which pooled at his feet, the hot evening breeze caressing his naked and golden skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps that quickly settled. “So how does this work? Because you really haven’t explained to me how this is done.”  
  
“It is unique to each individual who seeks to bind themselves to the Warriors and House of their Clan. Commonly, their teacher designs how the ritual will be performed. Better still is when their bondmate initiates the warrior, as I will be doing for you.” Spock began emptying the satchel and arranging the contents around the mat, somehow gracefully managing to move in his own heavy, long-sleeved robe. “You will kneel and reflect on why you wish to become bound to my House in this manner. Also, what it means to be an officer of Starfleet and a warrior in your own culture. Finally, you will think on and understand what would be necessary should you be required to fight and possibly die in defense of your Clan, House, and bondmate.” Finished with his task, Spock stood and motioned for Jim to do as instructed. “Remember _t’hy’la_ , once we start we will not stop and this is not to be taken lightly. Be sure you do this for your own reasons, not because you think to please me or anyone else.”  
  
“I’m not doing this out of pride or coercion of any kind.” Jim dropped to his knees and shifted around for a few moments so that he could kneel comfortably. “I can promise you that. But I’m hoping once we get started, you’ll explain what we’re doing as we’re doing it?”  
  
“Of course. Be easy Jim, you have already completed the hardest part. Now, meditate.” Spock watched for a moment to make sure Jim did as he was told as he took off his own sandals, before searching through the bushes, pulling out enough deadwood for a fire. It was a couple of minutes work to dig out a shallow pit in the sand and to get a fire lit. Once done, he knelt on the edge of the mat and moved the tools he would use closer.  
  
Carefully, he started with the clay pot of blood-green paint, swirling the entire container three times to ensure the paint was still mixed. Next, came a simple wood and ox–hair paintbrush which he unrolled from a piece of black cloth and set near the paint pot. Lastly, Spock pulled close a large, shallow wooden bowl and the 3.74 liter jug of clean water, pouring exactly half into the bowl.  
  
Start to finish, Spock couldn’t help but note, the preparations only took 15.21 minutes. “ _Ashaya_.” It took a moment for Jim to come out of his deep contemplation. “If you are ready, we shall begin.”  
  
Jim agreed with a nod, and while Spock moved closer, he asked, “So what was the hard part?”  
  
“Defeating an enemy. Sometimes, before the Awakening, when Clans were not at war, the initiate chose a warrior to fight as a test of skill. If the initiate fought well or won, they were allowed to complete the ritual. If they fought poorly or dishonorably, they were encouraged to seek another vocation.” Spock pulled the top off the paint and stood, motioning for Jim to stand with him. Amused, Jim watched his bondmate move until they were facing each other. “I will begin with your front. Do your best to stay still.”  
  
Warm and calloused fingers at his chin had Jim tilting his head back, exposing his throat and brushing the thread thin marriage chain aside. The sudden feather-light touch of the brush felt odd to Jim and the cool paint was much smoother to his skin than he would have thought. Looking at the intense concentration on Spock’s face, he made a soft sound in place of asking what was being drawn on his skin. Spock didn’t even glance up. “This mark is the Vuhlkansu symbol for honesty or _trau’es_.”  
  
And Jim could feel it. Not just the long lines being placed on his throat, or the almost nonsensical whorls that followed, but the very faint compulsion to speak so. Soon after, another set of larger lines and whorls were added over his actual heart and Jim looked down to watch, not knowing why tears started to form in his eyes and a surging current of emotion clogged his throat until Spock spoke again, his voice taking on the Professor tone he used to use on Academy cadets. “This is the symbol _ka-ta-pak_ , the inner chorus. It represents your emotions in relation to our Gods and is placed on your chest because the ancients believed the seat of the emotions was here, where the body is thickest and best able to contain them.”  
  
“Yeah, that makes sense in a way, especially for a people who were so war-like. Torso’s a lot easier to defend than your side.” Jim cocked his head a little and tried to get his raspy voice to come out closer to normal. “You know, for humans, your emotions come from your heart, metaphorically speaking. Guess both our peoples had the right idea even if it was for different reasons.”  
  
“Just so. Now I need you to show me your wrists, Jim.” After a moment of watching Spock dip the brush into the pot for more paint, Jim complied. First, Spock gently cupped his right forearm and turned it so the inside of the wrist was up, then began spreading the verdant paint around in more dizzying patterns almost to his elbow. “This is _dor_ , the word for honor.” Even as Jim was about to ask why it was drawn there, Spock answered. “Through your sword, figuratively speaking, you dispense justice or punishment. You may also bring glory or shame to our House and Clan. It depends on who you help and who you hinder. Whom you allow to live and whose lives you take. Even though Vulcans are pacifists now, warriors can still be called to take the lives of those who threaten us.”  
  
Jim’s fist clenched almost involuntarily, the odd feeling of tightly gripping a heavy wood shaft echoing through his nerves. Disconcerted, he looked to Spock, knowing his bondmate could pick up what he was experiencing right from his skin.  
  
And he could. Spock met Jim’s bright crystal blue eyes and the slightest quirk of his mouth showed as a smile. “It is normal to feel thus. The primitive portion of my brain is instinctively supplying the sense memories of my experiences with these concepts for you. It is the place where bonds are strongest, but like a child, it needs the fanciness, color and flash of ritual to easily connect with.” Stroking a finger along Jim’s arm above the painted mark, Spock gave Jim a comforting look. “Though the sensation is sometimes unsettling, it is not to fear.”  
  
“I figured. Just really odd to feel something and not know where it came from.” Jim waved his left hand, which was unoccupied, prompting Spock to continue his painting.  
  
Spock obliged by capturing his left arm, drawing on the inside of his wrist again. There were more lines than whorls in this mark, almost as if the concepts that this mark represented were more defined, concrete, binding. Spock confirmed Jim’s impression with his next words. “This is _gu-vam_. Duty. In the same fashion you perform your duties for Starfleet, you perform them for House and Clan. Your duties are to guard and protect, to offer hospitality to all who come to you peacefully, to give aid to any who ask it of you.”  
  
Jim grinned. “Wow. Sounds almost exactly like the oath I took when I was commissioned. Starfleet steal it from Vulcans or something?”  
  
“Actually, a Vulcan did pen the original Oath. She adapted the Warrior’s oath with elements from Earth’s military oaths of the twenty-first century.” Smiling with his eyes, he completed the last lines on the symbol. “Vulcan’s policies and writings became so favored by humans that fully half of Starfleet’s General Orders are Vulcan in origin.”  
  
“Good to know,” Jim chuckled.  
  
“It is always good to know such things, however, we have a task to complete.” Jim’s chuckles died down to a grin as he watched his bondmate kneel at his feet.  
  
And finally noticed something that he wasn’t expecting. He had a raging hard-on. A _seriously_ raging hard-on. “Uh…”  
  
Spock eyed the rosy cock he was now level with for a moment, feeling the embarrassment coming off of Jim in waves. He ducked his head slightly to control the urge to grin before looking up at his lover. “Do not concern yourself. It is a natural reaction to what is perceived as erotic stimulation.”  
  
“Sorry.” The blush that suddenly took hold of Jim’s skin traveled from the roots of his wheat-colored hair to far down past his neck. “I didn’t think my body would react this way. I mean, I’ve never gotten off on body painting before, so…”  
  
“As I said, do not be concerned. We will deal with your arousal in due course.”  
  
A flicker of astonishment crossed Jim’s face for a second, then settled back into a grin. “Really? Is sex an integral part of initiation, or is this a special case?”  
  
“Vulcan’s often consider the evidence of sexual satisfaction between bondmates appropriate.” Spock’s eyes flashed with heat for a moment before he started to draw on Jim’s left ankle. “A Warrior initiating his bondmate is almost obligated to prove such satisfaction in a very direct way. Usually with an audience, to word it delicately.”  
  
That set off Jim’s delighted chuckling again. “For a species that teaches privacy as very important, you guys sure are voyeuristic.”  
  
“We do not let go of our traditions easily, especially the ancient ones.” The loops for Spock’s Clan symbol were large, traveling most of the way up Jim’s shin and around the calf. “This ritual is by far older than even the tradition of linking children when they reach the age of seven and so is deeply ingrained into our culture.” Finishing the last dip and swirl on Jim’s left ankle, he started on Jim’s right, beginning with the traditional long center line.  
  
Jim watched his _t’hy’la_ for a moment, soaking up the feel of Spock’s warm hand on the back of his knee, holding him still. Also soaking up the curious sensation of stability, which seemed to radiate from the marks. “What are you drawing now? I feel…” He closed his eyes for a moment in thought. “I’m not sure how to word it.”  
  
“Ah. Your left leg bears the symbol of our Clan.” Spock didn’t even pause to think about what he said, so instinctual to his mind what it _all_ meant. “The right will bear the symbol of our House. Both will be your foundation and safety. They will hold you up like the roots of a great tree and assist you in any endeavor. The voices of those they contain will add weight to yours, for you speak with not only your voice but their’s as well.”  
  
“Wow.” Almost staggered by the implications, he shot Spock a nervous look. “That’s a pretty big damn responsibility.”  
  
“Yes. It is the same responsibility you accepted when we mated. The same you accepted when Starfleet made you a Captain. This just reinforces the point.” With the last flourish to his House symbol, Spock stood and cupped Jim’s face in his hands and looked into his _t’hy’la’s_ beautiful blue eyes. “The difference, my love, is that, unlike Starfleet, _we_ , your Clan, House, _and_ family, do not consider you expendable. We will fight and die for you, as you would for any of us. If it is possible to save you, it would be done without a second thought.”  
  
Feeling unworthy of such devotion and tears starting to sparkle in his eyes, Jim swallowed hard. “That’s - That’s really - You don’t have to do that for me.”  
  
“You belong to me and I would tear eternity apart of have you back. So, yes, I do have to. And it is a matter of honor for our Clan to assist me.” Touching his forehead to Jim’s for a second, he let their bond open wide, pouring all of his love and devotion and loyalty into Jim’s shy and scarred _katra_ before pulling back but leaving their link completely open. “We are not yet done, _ashaya_.” Rubbing his thumbs along Jim’s cheeks, he let go and moved to stand behind Jim and picked up the paint pot, dipping the brush in before continuing with another long line, this one laid along Jim’s spine from the base of his neck to his tailbone, then starting the first symbol at the top of the line.  
  
“The next three symbols are _plat, kyi’i_ and _nahr_. Strength, courage and discipline. These three concepts are the first building blocks, the backbone if you will, of being a Warrior in our culture. You can not even be accepted for training without showing some measure of each.” A touch of Spock’s wry humor colored his voice as he dropped gracefully to his knees to write the second symbol. “Be thankful Starfleet’s training is just rigorous enough by Vulcan standards, otherwise we would not be doing this highly pleasurable task.”  
  
Composure finally regained, Jim couldn’t contain the quick bark of laughter. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having a great time.” A small flick of his fingers towards his erection proved his point. “And who wouldn’t? I have a smoking’ hot bondmate spreading paint over my _naked_ body, out in the middle of nowhere during the early evening where anybody could stumble upon us. A bondmate who’s doing a very kinky ancient Warrior initiation that could’ve come straight out of one of my wildest gay fantasies.”  
  
Spock couldn’t help it, he chuckled quietly and paused in starting the _nahr_ symbol to press a kiss to Jim’s left ass cheek, trying and failing to smother his chuckles at the same time. Not that he minded losing his composure with his _t’hy’la_ , so long as no one else saw. That would have been, in Spock’s mind, just as embarrassing as walking in on his father and Doctor McCoy during an intimate moment.  
  
“What the hell are you laughing about, mister?” The mock-pout in Jim’s tone was unmistakable and didn’t stop Spock’s chuckles at all.  
  
“It is possible I was subconsciously planning your initiation as such. Although I, nor you, need instances such as these to capture the spirit of it during love-making.” Spock’s voice deepen a little from desire. “You only need ask.”  
  
“I’ll remember for later.”  
  
“It is well.” Quickly and carefully, Spock drew the spirals, lines and circles for the last word. “One more, my love.”  
  
“Really?” Twisting a little while trying to look over his shoulder at the paint on his back without ruining it was hard, and not entirely successful, but he did catch a glimpse of the shimmering, dark green line just above his ass. “What’s left?”  
  
Spock scooted on his knees to Jim’s right side and nipped his luscious hip bone to gain his attention, _and_ to make Jim face forward again. “My name, Jim, which is traditional when welcoming a bondmate into the Warrior caste.”  
  
“Oh.” The brush tickled a little when Spock started with the center line again, but he ignored the sensation easily. “I got two questions.”  
  
“What would you ask?”  
  
Jim smiled at the focus Spock was keeping on his work. “Why do all High Vuhlkansu glyphs start with a line through the middle and why are you painting your name on my side instead of over my heart, were it belongs?”  
  
“ _T’hy’la_ , you are a romantic.” Blushing a very pale leaf green, Spock decided to answer the second question first. “If your body was Vulcan, this spot _would_ be over your heart. I adorn it so because I choose to.” Spock blushed a little darker. “During my meditations over the course of the last fourteen days, I thought on how I wanted to conduct your ritual and the placements of the symbols are exactly as I envisioned them to be. As is the environment, as are the tools and as the conclusion will be. In regards to your first question, the purpose of the center line is to remind a Vulcan that all words, and the meanings, ideas and objects that the words represent, have positive and negative connotations and should be used carefully.”  
  
Nodding to himself, Jim let Spock finish with his side, sneaking a look at the quickly drying mark. It was simple. Beautiful. Very elegant, just like the rest of the marks. The center line, a very tight spiral on either side of it, three long lines straight across the base of the line. “Wow. I kind of want to tattoo it on me.”  
  
Spock quirked an eyebrow in amusement and moved over to the water bowl, still on his knees, to clean out the brush. “I am certain that if you truly wish to, we could find someone to accommodate you before shore leave is over. There are many artists who would do the work.” He looked up after he set the brush aside. “Now, there are two methods to linking you. One is arduous and uncomfortable and the other is almost as long, but much more pleasant. Since this process is by your request, I will allow you to choose.”  
  
“Allow me, huh?” Jim chuckled. “Personally, I prefer the pleasant way of doing things. So what now?”  
  
Not answering immediately, Spock grasped one of Jim’s hand tightly and yanked him down to his knees on the mat. “Now?” A shiver of delight raced up Jim’s spine at the hot fire blazing behind Spock’s eyes. “Now, I will make love to you.”  
  
“Seriously?” Jim would’ve asked more, but joyfully accepted the deep kiss Spock gave him and quickly popped open the buttons on Spock’s robe with practiced fingers. Jim laughed into the kiss when his bondmate just shimmied out of the heavy fabric instead of standing up and taking it off properly.  
  
But Spock wasn’t done amusing Jim. Grabbing onto Jim’s shoulders, he twisted and fell onto the mat, bringing Jim to rest on his chest and thighs without smearing the almost dry paint. “So beautiful,” Spock said as he broke their kiss with a little gasp when his shaft rubbed against Jim‘s thigh. “Decorated like a desert Warrior should be.”  
  
Moving around to sit properly on Spock’s lap, Jim ducked his head and blushed, the fire-light highlighting the rosy color. Then Jim looked at his _t’hy’la_ and finally saw the same paint encircling Spock’s wrists which had been hidden by the robe he wore. “What does this mean?” Jim asked while caressing the marks.  
  
“They simply say that I am a Warrior and mated to you.” Spock started caressing Jim’s hands in return, the contact of Jim’s rough fingertips against his own very sensitive fingers heightening his arousal. “The ones around my ankles proclaim Clan and House.”  
  
Sure enough, Jim glanced back and noticed the green shimmer of the paint. “Let me guess. Tradition?”  
  
“Yes.” He switched to running his fingers over every inch of skin he could reach starting with Jim‘s arms, making sure not to smear the symbols. “However, I wish to ask if we could forgo foreplay at this time. I find myself unable to wait to be inside of you.”  
  
Jim smiled and arched into his _t‘hy‘la‘s_ hot hands, which were now tracing lines of fire down his chest and sides, giving a little shiver of anticipation when Spock‘s slick erection dug into his perineum. He knew that whenever Spock introduced him to a new bit of his culture, he became incredibly turned on. Not that Jim complained. Times like that always proved to be equally arousing for Jim. And mind-blowing.  
  
He couldn’t forget mind-blowing.  
  
Taking Jim’s smile as consent, Spock blindly felt for his satchel to retrieve the lubricant he’d stashed there but realized almost immediately it was too far out of reach. Instead, his hand found the paint pot and even though it would be fast-drying under normal circumstances, his body’s natural lubrication was oily enough to keep it from drying for a long time when mixed. And secretly, Spock was pleased that he would later get to _help_ his bondmate clean the paint out. He set the thought aside for the time being to concentrate on the current moment.  
  
It was only the work of a couple of minutes to stretch Jim. The cold and thick paint when he thrust his fingers in warmed quickly and made fast work of opening Jim up. Spock met no resistance as he finally slid his bondmate down onto his shaft, the paint giving a faint and slightly naughty squelching noise that made Jim laugh again.  
  
Spock’s normally stern mouth twitched into a small smile at Jim’s joyful sound and he pulled him down by the hips just a little more to snuggly fit into the cradle of Spock’s lap. A moan stuttered Jim’s laughter and he wiggled minutely to get comfortable. After a moment, he started a slow grind on Spock’s cock, barely allowing an inch of it to leave his body, and gave a contented sigh.  
  
Spock hummed low in his throat from the pleasure of moving inside the warm, clingy, tight body wrapped around his cock and watched his _t’hy’la_ , enchanted. Jim’s hips subtly rolling, head thrown back in ecstasy, knees planted at Spock’s sides and gripping hard, hands ghosting up and down Spock’s torso. The firelight threw the dips and planes of Jim’s form into sharp relief and made his skin glow a beautiful red-gold hue. But he really didn’t want a slow, leisurely love-making. No, Spock wanted his mate to ride him with abandon, unbridled and wild.  
  
Bending his knees and planting his feet closer to his body, Spock gripped Jim’s hips and bucked hard to hopefully entice Jim. Grinning down at Spock, Jim lifted up until just the flared ridges and crown of Spock’s erection were lodged against the inside of Jim’s hole, pausing. “Impatient?”  
  
“Yes,” Spock growled playfully, right before his grip tightened and he pulled his _t’hy’la_ down hard. The loud cry of pleasure that was ripped from Jim’s throat was glorious and Spock lifted and slammed him down again, repeating the cry.  
  
It set Jim off and, in a matter of seconds, Spock was getting exactly what he wanted from Jim - a hard ride.   
  
It couldn’t have been more perfect. The feel of Jim’s smooth and sweat-damp skin under his hands, the hard smack of flesh each time Jim dropped down Spock’s shaft,  the warm and slick softness sliding fast over his cock. The sounds were indescribable to Spock’s sharp hearing. The sighs and moans and shouts that accompanied every thrust, like ancient primal music. A musky scent of salt, sand, fire surrounding them both.  
  
The best thing though, at least to Spock, was the constant electric buzz of emotion bleeding right through Jim’s skin. Love and pleasure, ecstasy and happiness.  
  
There was only one thing missing. One thing that would turn their love-making from unbelievable, Earthly passion to otherworldly, perfect joy. It didn’t hurt that it needed to be done anyway. Even as the thought crossed Spock’s mind and echoed in his bondmate’s, his hand was reaching up, aligning with Jim’s psi points, and their connection opened up with the speed of a super-nova, all light and stars and wonder.  
  
As they were sucked into the bond, leaving everything but the faint ghost of physical feeling from their still-writhing bodies behind, Spock wrapped his essence around Jim and basked in his presence. Jim returned the spiritual embrace for a moment before his curious, desire-tinted amusement flowed across Spock’s senses, warming him completely.  
  
Spock’s voice reverberated around them. _Watch_. He dragged Jim along, deeper into his mind, searching for the web of connections he was looking for. Thankfully, the Warrior links weren’t nearly as deep in the mind and _katra_ as familial or marriage bonds, so it only took a moment. The shocked awe from Jim rocked him though.  
  
 _It’s beautiful_. Jim whispered.  
  
He agreed. Like a spider web spun out of a Terran rainbow, the net was scintillating with every color imaginable to which Spock was but one deep blue thread. And while he knew the image was just his brain’s way of making the Warrior links make sense, his thread attached to a never-ending collection of other threads, there was some logic to the configuration. Warriors linked to a vast network of other Warriors. One that his _t’hy’la_ would be made part of in just a few scant seconds.  
  
Jim’s soul tingled with an anticipation that Spock could almost taste. _Do it._  
  
So he did. Carefully, lest he rush and hurt Jim, Spock spun out a thin piece of Jim’s _katra_ and, using his thread to coax the web closer, gently tied the newly made gold thread to it with a thought, almost like a spider would. It merged seamlessly into the whole, just as Jim said, awed, _I can feel them._  
  
Spock allowed his contentment and love and desire wrap them up, drawing them back into their bodies, which had essentially carried on without them. The shock in returning was almost like dropping into the middle of a hot ocean of sensation that swept them under. It was a transition that never failed to make either one’s blood _burn_.  
  
Jim arched with a shout, unfortunately pulling away from Spock’s hand and dimming their bond slightly. But Spock was fine with that. Grabbing on to Jim’s waist, Spock rolled them over, and into the sand, taking control of their pleasure with a growl and a hard thrust. Startled, Jim allowed it and held on for the rest of the ride.  
  
It was only a handful of thrusts after that to bring them to completion. Jim came first, throwing his head back and howling Spock’s name, blue eyes wide and his seed splattering against his stomach. Spock slid himself home one more time and exploded in his mate’s convulsing hole, letting go of a deep purring-moan as his ejaculate overflowed Jim’s body and started leaking around his cock.  
  
Collapsing into a boneless heap onto his mate, Spock continued to purr his contentment and satisfaction, nuzzling against the side of Jim’s throat. Jim’s own contentment flooded their link warmly as he carded his fingers through Spock’s hair and enjoyed the feeling of his bondmate.  
  
Laying still for a while, still joined, was nothing but bliss, but too soon Jim started to wiggle. “C’mon, my heavy _t’hy’la_ , Sarek’s probably wondering what’s taking so long and Bones is going to want to give us a look over.”  
  
“Doctor McCoy has no reason to examine you. He is just overly cautious. And my father knows what we are doing.” Lifting his head from where it was resting on Jim’s shoulder, Spock cupped his face and kissed him. As he pulled back, he noticed the green shimmer of paint on Jim’s meld points. “I must tell you, I accidentally marked your face with paint.”  
  
Jim gave him a hard kiss. “I don’t mind.”  
  
From the emotions dancing across his bondmate’s skin, Spock was pretty sure Jim more than just _didn’t mind_ …   
  
Spock quietly laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> The marriage chain still belongs to the awesome CMM, so is the way Jim's full name is written.


End file.
